


Prettiest Girl in the Town

by Jemisard



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Kidnapping, Non-Explicit, Sexual Slavery, Slave Trade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5980758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemisard/pseuds/Jemisard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When young girls are going missing, the team send in a decoy to try and flush out the truth.</p>
<p>For details on how graphic this story is, please see the notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prettiest Girl in the Town

When Batman stepped into the room with a pretty girl with long, messy black plaits and big brown eyes, the team froze in horror.

Batman had promised them bait. He had not said anything about bringing a doe eyed innocent girl in to be kidnapped.

“You have to be kidding me,” Artemis yelled. “She’s all of eleven!”

“Thirteen,” the girl said in a husky voice.

Wally was there a moment later, taking her hand. “Batman, you can’t possibly be thinking of sending this delicate flow- OW!”

Said delicate flower had flipped Wally and put him on his stomach on the floor, knee in the small of his back and arm twisted behind him. “Who are you calling a delicate flower, Kid _Mouth_?”

“Robin?!”

Batman was definitely smirking.

“Who else was he going to put up to this?” He got up off Wally, smoothing down the skirt of his sundress. “I make a pretty cute chick, if I say so myself.”

He spun on the ball of one foot, the skirt billowing up and the plaits flying out and back again. The wig was flawless, a blue headscarf matching the dress and shoes. Just a hint of lip gloss and mascara suggested femininity and his shoulders were still small enough to be a girl’s.

“You are so cute!” M’Gann dived down to spin him around. “This is the best plan ever! And because you’re small for your age, you look that bit younger.”

Robin pouted at that comment. “I’m not _that_ small.”

“You are,” Wally laughed. “But it’s good in this case. None of us are small enough or young enough to pull this off except you.”

“Enough joking around,” Batman cut in. “I understand the humour, but the fact remains, this is a dangerous job. This isn’t for fun, girls are going missing, young girls. Robin is best suited for this job, due to both his age and his training to work as a solitary operative.”

“You get to do jobs on your own in Gotham?”

“Kid Flash...” Batman glared at him to silence him.

“Being quiet. Sorry.”

“You’ll be working out of Happy Harbour. These kidnappings are national, but there’s been a high incidence in holiday towns, meaning there’s a good chance he could be taken within the first twenty four to forty eight hours.”

“I have trackers on me, in case you guys manage to somehow lose me. If you lose me, you suck, just for the record.” Robin folded his arms over his chest. “There’s a tracker in my shoe heel, in the headband and-” he pulled the thick strap of his sundress. “In the base of the strap.”

“You can’t see it,” M’Gann added.

“Thanks.”

“Are your eyes really brown,” Superboy randomly asked.

“Maybe.” He batted his lashes. “Wouldn’t _you_ like to know?”

“Yes... That’s why I asked,” he retorted, baffled.

“Children,” Batman growled. “Mission at hand.”

They refocused again.

“I’m leaving this up to you. We’ve got twelve missing girls in two weeks relying on you for answers. Don’t let them down.”

“We won’t,” Kaldur promised. “We’ll bring them back.”

Those words would prove to be a terrible premonition.

*~*~*

Robin sat on a bench, legs crossed and skirt smoothed over his lap to keep his dignity intact.

What dignity he still had.

Batman had been dressing him as a girl for missions since he had started as Robin. He had _hoped_ –apparently in vain–that that period of his crime fighting life was over. Especially in front of the team.

Still... at least he made a cute girl.

He closed his book, sighing and looking out over the park. The key to being kidnapped was not to act like you wanted to be kidnapped. Don’t linger after dark. Don’t go down dark alleys unless necessary. Anyone acting like they were looking for trouble was usually steered clear of. Because they were clearly trouble looking to happen.

Getting up from the bench, he shoved his book into his satchel and brushed his bangs back from his face. He’d been wandering the town since Friday night, and given it was nearly Sunday, he was starting to worry he wasn’t going to get grabbed.

As cute as he was as a girl, he really would like to get back to normal work, kicking butts, doing training, wearing pants.

He really missed pants.

“Miss?”

He looked around, spotting a young girl, maybe Megan’s age, then pointing to himself. “Me,” he asked in a sweet voice.

“Have you seen my little brother? He’s three, blond hair, Wiggles t-shirt?” She looked worried and nervous. Robin hoped that the nerves were not for an already missing child but the attempt to make one vanish.

“No... I can help you look though? I have a little sister, I’d freak if she was missing.” He shouldered his bag. “Where did you see him last?”

“He was just running around playing. He likes to try and climb trees, though he’s not very good at it.” She bit her lip. “His name’s Jimmy. I’m Suzanne.”

“Robyn.”

“Hi. Thanks for this. You’re really sweet, helping me look for him.” She started off into the park further, calling Jimmy’s name.

Robin came with her, calling out as well. They didn’t beeline to the thicket but checked the more open trees first.

“I think he probably went to the outskirts. Branches he can reach easier. Jimmy, come here! You’re worrying me!”

Robin moved ahead of her, pushing into the trees. “Jimmy! Jimmy.”

He heard the creak of someone moving. Quiet, very quiet, but not quiet enough to take him by surprise. He took several deep, sharp breaths surreptitiously, pumping oxygen into his lungs.

A strong arm wrapped around him, a cloth shoved over his face. He mimed taking several deep, panicked breaths before letting himself become dead weight, slumping to the ground.

“Grab her, get her in the car.”

He was picked up, hefted and carried through the woods, feeling his legs catch on twigs and then a shoe come off.

Damn. The shoe with the tracer. Luckily, he had two more on him.

He was tucked onto the backseat of a car, a seatbelt strapped on him and then his wrists handcuffed and a blanket neatly tucked around him.

Clever. Very clever. No one would look twice at a sleeping child in the backseat of a car. Much less risk from police, they were more likely to stop vehicles without children for random checks.

He felt someone sit next to him. Probably the other girl. He didn’t dare risk a peek, not until they were underway and distracted from watching him.

The car started up and pulled away. Well maintained, minimise police attention again.

He only worried when they pulled onto the main highway. This could be a long trip.

And his foot was cold.

*~*~*

One tracer had stopped moving.

When one was split from the other two, the team had moved in to check and found the abandoned shoe, tracer still sending its signal. Artemis had kept hold of the mobile scanner that was tracking Robin, updating his movements.

“I think we should take the bio-ship and stay close,” M’Gann suggested. “It can stay invisible and we can keep close by.”

“We don’t know who we’re dealing with,” Kaldur countered. “We don’t want to spook them and have them go to ground. Or worse, ditch Robin and the girls and cut their losses.”

“You mean cut their throats,” Artemis bluntly cut in. “I agree. The tracers are discreet. The bio-ship is invisible, but not _discreet_ , necessarily.”

“I don’t like leaving Robin alone,” Superboy added. “He’s well trained, but he’s unarmed, out numbered and going to have a lot of civilians around. We should be close to help him.”

Everyone looked to Wally.

Kaldur was the team leader, but he’d bow to the team if he felt there was a valid point. Wally looked around them all. “Look, I want to be there for Rob, I do, but Batman trusts him on his own on this one.”

“Agreed then. We wait until he stops moving and then we move in.” Kaldur tossed the shoe to M’Gann. “Everyone, get what rest you can until then. We don’t know what we’ll be facing going in.”

The team had headed back to base to pass time. Wally found the waiting hardest, every second ticking and dragging, restlessly checking the scanner until Artemis threatened to shoot him if he rushed over and off again one more time.

The longer it took, the worse it became.

Three hours later, when everyone was about ready to start snapping from the tension, Artemis sat bolt upright.

“They’ve stopped moving.”

Everyone was there as fast as they could be, crowding around to peer at where the tracers had finally come to a rest.

“What is that... a factory?”

“I think so. It’s an industrial district, and a nasty town.”

“Everyone, get going. You can tell me about this Bludhaven place on the way,” Kaldur ordered.

The team scattered to the bio-ship, ready to burst in and save the day.

*~*~*

Whatever they had expected, the warehouse exceeded and more.

M’Gann barely held the ship under control, struggling against the terrified minds of the girls inside. The other four dropped down immediately, weapons ready and taking in the scene.

There was a handful of frightened girls, dressed in hospital gowns and huddling together. One of the bigger, older girls was standing at the front of the group, a vivid bruise on her cheek but still looking defiant.

There were also men. Big men, with chains and scraped knuckles.

The team leapt into action. Superboy roared and charged, slamming the man in the lead into the two behind him, crashing them all through a wall. Kaldur slicked up the floor, Wally crashing several goons across the slick to be neatly pinned to the wall by a rain of arrows from Artemis.

M’Gann threw a goon off Superboy and into the wall to be pinned. “He’s taking it out on two of them. There’s six more girls in there, but no Robin.” She walked through the large hole now joining the two rooms.

No sign of the lanky boy in the dark wig.

Superboy came stomping through the wall, dragging the man and trailed by the other girls. They were all frightened, not one a day over thirteen and all in hospital gowns.

“They stripped them,” Wally finally said. “That means...”

“Robin isn’t wearing the tracers,” Artemis finished.

Kaldur looked back to the girls, honing in on the bravest of them. “I’m Aqualad, this is Young Justice. We’re here to save you. The police are on their way, you don’t have to fear anymore. You’re safe.”

“I’m Betsy.” She didn’t back down though, still protecting the younger girls with outspread arms. “Robin said someone would come to save us.”

“You spoke to Robin?!” Wally flashed over, worried and tense. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “They dragged her, him in here, like we had been, and then they started stripping... him. He started fighting them, but one of them has a taser, they smacked him and tasered him and then they found out he was a boy. He was stripped and put in a gown and left with us while they ‘sorted out what to do’. He said he was here to help and that someone would save us.”

“What then,” Wally pushed.

“They came back and said they’d organise a special sale for... they said some very rude things,” she whispered. “Nasty things.”

M’Gann gasped, going slightly pale as she looked at Betsy.

Kaldur looked over but she shook her head.

“Miss Martian?”

_I’m not repeating it._ Her mental voice was clear. _But I think Robin’s in terrible danger._

“They took him away, said pretty little girls like him needed special buyers.”

“Buyers,” Wally asked. “What _sort_ of buyers?”

“Perverts,” Artemis said. She straightened from the table she had been leaning over, reading through papers. “They’re not random kidnappers. They’re _suppliers_. They supply a prostitution ring, sex slaves. There’s an order here, for a dozen girls between ten and thirteen to supply one of their brothels.”

The reality of it sank in on them.

“And they’re arranging a sale for Robin,” Superboy said quietly. “A special sale.”

Sirens cut through the air.

“Contact Batman,” Kaldur snapped at Wally.

He hoped against hope that they’d reach him in time.

*~*~*

Dick lay curled up in a crate, shivering under the flimsy gown he’d been left in.

He was on mission, he should be thinking of himself as Robin, the Boy Wonder, partner of Batman, Dark Knight of Gotham.

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. He was trapped and nearly naked, cold and alone. They’d taken all his gear, he hadn’t even managed to hide a lock pick from the near invasive search.

Most bad guys wouldn’t strip a young teen of all his clothing. Normally he’d have _somewhere_ to hide something.

Not this time.

Not now.

He heard footsteps and voices and sat himself up as much as he could, pressing his ear to the crate wall to listen.

“... cial sale for this one. We didn’t have a demand for a cissy boy, but we’ve got some pretty sick customers out there.”

“Better bring in revenue. There’s been a raid on the Happy Harbour warehouse.”

Despite himself, he smiled in the darkness of his box. The team had found the girls. They were safe.

“Got some big bidders. Cissy boy, intact cherry, gotta be worth a bit. Had a couple of new bidders sign up special for him. Produced the money up front for serious bidding, to keep him.”

Keep him meant taking him out of the crate and out somewhere else. He tried not to think about the rest, about intact cherries or what they thought of the fact they’d found a boy dressed up very convincingly as a girl.

He might snap if he did.

A foot knocked the box, making him jerk back and the crate rock. The men laughed. “We’ll feed you soon, kid. Nothing much, can’t have you puking for the bidders, can we?”

“When’s the auction?”

“Tomorrow night. Short notice, but the boss doesn’t want to hang onto this one too long. Got a couple of real whack jobs interested and the boss wants them off his back asap.”

Another knock made him jump slightly and drew more laughter. “Sleep sweet, pretty boy.”

He lay there, waiting until he was alone and then counting out another two minutes.

He braced himself against one side and started to kick, hard and sharp against the far side. He kicked and kicked, feeling splinters in his feet and shoulders until he managed to slam the wood apart.

Dim light flooded into the crate. He kicked the wood away before turning around and crawling out, pain in his feet and shoulders from the wood, in his muscles from the cramped conditions.

A hand grabbed him by the hair, dragging him from the crate. He screamed and fought, kicking and trying to squirm free but there was more laughter and hands grabbing him.

He was trained. He was the Boy Wonder and he _couldn’t_ get free from them, these two huge men who grabbed and handled him like a rag doll.

“Cissy boy’s got fight in her,” one of them laughed, wrenching his head back. He snarled and spat at him, grimly satisfied at the surge of anger and the hard slap across the face.

“What are we going to do with it?”

“Put her in the army locker. Stop her doing any more damage.” He chuckled and Dick screamed in outrage, fighting every step as he was forced into a metal locker, long enough to lie straight in and the lid banged down and locked.

He kicked and yelled until he was too tired to move.

And then, sometime later, he passed into sleep.

*~*~*

Food proved to be a thin, clear soup and a bottle of coke that he was allowed to have only because his feet were bound together and his hands as well.

They dragged him to a bathroom with no mirror, no windows, just a toilet and shower on bare tiles and told him that he could wash or he would _be_ washed.

He took the suggestion and washed himself off, just relieved to be able to move. He stretched as much as he could, trying to ease out aches under the luke warm water before his captors banged the door open and threw him a bathrobe, telling him to put it on or go out wet and naked.

Again, he went with the sensible thing. He went with them, the back of his robe held tightly so that even if he tried to run, he’d be left naked and defenceless.

They escorted him to another room. Inside was a thin, emaciated girl with horrific burn scarring on her face and neck. She smiled thinly at him and gestured him in, to sit in front of her.

“To make you the prettiest girl in the town,” she has lisped at him.

She started with a pair of tweezers, cleaning up his feet and shoulders and neck, pulling the wood from his skin roughly. Anything too difficult was ignored.

The goons stood at the door, watching as she painted makeup onto him. It wasn’t like when Bruce or Alfred did it. Her nails were sharp against his skin and the make up was to hide the bruise on his face and the prickling from splinters in his pale flesh. It hurt but he stayed quiet, not willing to let them have his pain as well as his dignity.

“You’re young enough to not need waxing, that’s good,” the girl smirked as she finished patting over his shoulders, hiding the last of the red. She stood and moved to a rack of clothing, sifting through the hangers.

He wrapped the robe around his body tighter, holding onto it even as the girl, woman, came back with a gauzy green baby doll and matching panties.

“No.”

He didn’t even realise he had spoken until he heard his own voice and saw her frown.

“You go out in that or you go out naked,” one of the thugs growled from the door.

For a moment, he pondered it. Naked seemed less shameful if the team came, rather than dressed in such degrading clothing.

“Fine, nake-”

“No! I’ll do it. Stop.”

But he couldn’t. He’d sooner have _something_. Something to hide him from the prying eyes of the _bidders_.

He snatched the hanger and turned his back on them, refusing to be shamed but also not wanting to give them a show. He’d changed in front of people most of his life, this was no different. Another costume for another role, nothing more.

He was no sooner changed than he was dragged back, hair brushed out and a headband of matching green put on his head. “The green makes your hazel eyes look greener.”

Dick swore he would never wear green again in his life after this.

“Come on, pretty.” His arms were grabbed. “Time to go. Bidders waiting.”

Dick pulled against them, but his heart was sinking in his chest.

This was going to happen.

*~*~*

It took some manhandling to drag Dick onto a small dais, forcing him to his knees so a collar could be snapped around his neck before he was left. The collar was chained to the front of the dais, with not enough slack to let him pull back or rise up off his knees.

Then the light came up.

He flinched back, eyes closing and hand coming to protect his face from the glare. He was almost relieved when the light seemed to move.

Until he realised the dais was moving. Rotating. _Displaying_ him to the audience he couldn’t see but now that he listened, he could hear.

Rough breaths. Hushed whispers. Rustling cloth.

“Gentlemen.”

The voice echoed around from speakers. He located where they were, out of reach and out of sight.

“Robyn is from Happy Harbour and is twelve years old. She’s the prettiest girl in town, especially when she’s dressed up waiting for a Daddy to take her home.”

Dick wanted to gag. Or maybe just throw up.

“She’s a cissy boy, but she isn’t going to let that stop her from being all the girl a little boy can be. I have an opening bid of a thousand dollars, if you wish to inspect the merchandise, feel free to look but not touch anything below the collar and we will warn you that little Robyn has a lot of fire in her belly.”

Chairs shifted and people came out of the darkness.

They were wearing masks, blank, leering things but he could see eyes as he looked about, trying to pull back from hands that pinched his cheeks to try and make him cry and feel how tender his skin was.

“Fifteen hundred,” a man cooed.

“Eighteen,” another countered.

“Twenty five hundred,” a third panted, grabbing his chin and pulling his face around. “I want to show little Robyn my special place.”

It was like ice down Dick’s back. He knew that voice. He knew that voice in the worst way.

Jeremiah Arkham. The insane and twisted ex owner of the Arkham Asylum. He was as likely to try and vivisect him as put him in a cell to watch him and make him perform.

He liked to brainwash.

He shook his head, breath escaping in a shivering breath.

Someone chuckled darkly. “You’re scaring the little girl. You’d rather come home with me to my special place, wouldn’t you? Twenty eight.”

“Please, away from the girl now. Let everyone look, even if they’re too shy to go and touch what isn’t theirs yet.”

People faded back. Dick shivered, tugging on his chain when suddenly a hand grabbed his wrist.

He twisted free and clobbered the man across the cheek. A foot struck him from behind, sharp pain flared through his back and he cried out.

The other customers were laughing. “Didn’t like being touched by you, did he?”

“I like spirited girls. I like breaking them in and riding them to exhaustion, like you would stock. Four thousand.”

Someone whistled.

“She’s as likely to bite your nuts off, mate.”

There was a dark chuckle. Dick prayed fervently that he didn’t get taken by that one.

“Forty five,” Arkham wheezed. Dick wasn’t sure he was a better choice right now.

“Five thousand,” the stock breaker countered. “Your other products are too weak. I want this one. This one needs breaking.”

He took it back. Arkham might at least lock him up somewhere Batman would find him.

“Too steep,” Arkham murmured.

“Any other bidders? We’re at five thousand for Robyn, the prettiest cissy boy... Five thousand, and she’s all yours, Mister Black.”

The spotlight went off and after a pause, regular lights came back up. The room was empty, the door swinging shut behind the last of the buyers.

The goons stepped forwards, snapping manacles onto his wrists and fastening them onto the chain. “Behave,” one of them growled.

Dick had no intention of doing any such thing. He waited until he was pulled to standing, then he leapt, foot cracking into a jaw.

The man reeled. Using the chain, Dick jerked and flipped himself up onto the other man’s shoulders, dropping to sit and twist his legs around his throat, squeezing hard.

There was a pin point of a sting and then agony. His body contorted and seized, collapsing to the floor and twitching as the current ran through his frame.

“You’re useless,” Black growled. “Load it into the box and into my trunk. I don’t have time to waste with you when I have new stock to break.”

Dick gasped for breath as he was loaded up, unable to fight, shackled and defenceless into the waiting box.

It was an eternity later than the box was opened.

He couldn’t see in the bright glare, there was a dark shadow and then a calloused hand touching his cheek. He reacted on instinct, snapping to bite and he heard a chuckle.

A familiar chuckle.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

He lay there, too bewildered to move at first, even when the collar and cuffs were removed. “Bruce?”

Bruce’s hands were warm when they helped him to sit up, broad across his back and cupping the back of his head. “I’ve got you. You’re home.”

Blinking, his vision cleared, bringing Bruce into view. He was smiling slightly, but his smile was tired and worried and his eyes had dark rings under them.

“Come on, upright.” He was pulled to stand, his legs trying to give way and pain flaring on the soles of his feet. He was swept up in an instant, held in strong arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hand curling on Bruce’s tie. “I got caught, I didn’t get away, I kept trying, but I couldn’t, I screwed up, I should’ve-”

“Shh.” Bruce sat him on a chair, pulling out a knife and simply cutting away the hated baby doll, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around Dick’s shoulders. It was warm and heavy and smelt like Bruce’s aftershave. He snuggled into it, inhaling deeply.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Dick,” Bruce said quietly. “You didn’t give up. You fought back. And you saved the girls. Nothing is your fault. You did everything right.”

“I couldn’t-”

Bruce dropped to one knee in front of him, holding his gaze. “You’re thirteen. You were unarmed, out numbered and in a terrible, terrible position. If I’d realised why those girls were being taken, I _never_ would have sent you in like that. It wasn’t your fault.” His cheek was stroked softly, then his head bent forward for a kiss on his brow. “And I’m sorry for scaring you in that room. I had to hold my cover until I knew they hadn’t implanted or tampered with you. I had to get you out safely. How hurt are you?”

“Just... tired. Hungry. Achy.” He looked to his feet. “I have splinters from kicking out of a crate.”

“That’s my boy. How about a hot bath to loosen up those splinters, wash all this off and then Alfred can make you your favourite for dinner?”

He wanted to protest, that he was okay, he didn’t need coddling.

He held up his arms, hugging Bruce around the neck as he was picked up. “That sounds really good.”

Nothing had sounded better in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> This story does not have anything explicit happening to anyone underaged, but there is a lot of verbal implication and some physical abuse. This is not a pleasant story, even if it has a happy ending.


End file.
